As most procrastinating young adults, I sat down to write my article for this week five hours before it was due. As I came to the realization that I wasn't getting anything done, I packed up my laptop, carrots, Arbonne fizz stick and headed to my favorite local coffee shop. Turns out the sound of espresso grinding, milk steaming, and loud chatter didn't prove to be any better of a scene.

I sit here now with my friend Stacy, chatting and still completely stuck on what to write about. I confide in her about my current writer's block while simultaneously staring at my laptop screen hoping for inspiration to hit me like the sharp smell of coffee in this room. Stacy takes to giving me life advice as I continue to frantically rack my brain for a topic that will prove inspirational to young adults worldwide.

"You could write about, 'What's Better Than Fudge?' "
"I could, but I don't like fudge, so literally everything is better than fudge." She stares at me. "Okay, except maybe tomatoes or anything pickled," I say as I stare back at the various flavors of biscotti and take another bite of my sad, raw carrot.
"Then write about that. It could be a makeshift health blog over the fact that there is a multitude of foods better than fudge." She takes another bite out of her fudge.

"Alright, I'll write it down."

Our conversation is interrupted by a retired former coworker of mine, David, who was on his way out. I had previously been talking to him about the cruise he's about to embark in the next couple of weeks.

"You ladies have a good day. I'll see you next time you're here."
"Thanks, David. You too"

This article writing business is proving harder than I originally thought. Dish out an article a week? Pshh, I can do that. Anyone who knows me knows I can talk faster than my mind can think; turns out writing is a trickier business. Back to the laptop, it is. Sigh. I scroll through Odyssey articles hoping to get the wheel in my brain to turn. I continue to make conversation with Stacy.

"Stacy, what do you like to do for fun?" hoping something she says will give me an idea.
"I like to hike," she takes a moment to reflect the question further, "I also like to watch turkeys. I went to Quartz Mountain the other day and saw FOUR turkeys cross the road. They didn't gobble though," she accepts somberly, "they didn't gobble."
"They didn't gobble?"
"No! Like, what the hell, turkeys? Do something informative! I saw a deer too. Oh, what it would be like to be a deer--no bills, my only obligation to look peaceful and eat grass. I would probably get eaten by a mountain lion, though, and that would suck."
"Yeah, Stacy, that would suck."

This isn't helping.

"Why don't you write about coffee shop conversations? You spend plenty of time here (good point, Stacy) and you talk to so many people."

Not a bad idea...not a bad idea at all. So, that's what I did. My hair stylist came in and I complained about my monster headache from all the caffeine I HAVEN'T been consuming, thanks to Arbonne's 'Thirty Days to Healthy Living' challenge. That conversation led to me learning one of her daughters is lactose intolerant and how hard it is to find groceries at Walmart.

I talked to my former manager about the new house that she bought and learned we like the same type of wood for cabinet furnishings and that may seem trivial, but I would never have known had I not asked.

I talked to the older gentleman who asked to sit across from me and refused to be called sir. He sipped his coffee and asked me what the heck I was doing typing a mile a minute and was impressed to find out that I wrote for Odyssey every week.

I looked around at this small coffee shop in Altus Oklahoma, the place I call home, and smiled. The inspiration had been around me the entire time. I suddenly had at least five topics I could write about, but I decided this week I was going to stick with the story that gave me the inspiration in the first place.

Not every story we have will be inspirational, but it doesn't mean we don't have a story to tell all the same.

Beauty can be found in the most ordinary of places.